


deja vu

by dandeaix



Category: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Diners, M/M, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandeaix/pseuds/dandeaix
Summary: There is a Bible in the gloves compartment of the car. Angel has picked it up at a budget hotel run by an American couple, and has been reading it ever since while Aki drives.Today, Angel sticks a receipt between the pages to mark his spot, and then dumps the book back in the compartment. "Do you think I should have more eyes?""I think you're fine as you are," Aki replies.
Relationships: Angel Devil/Hayakawa Aki
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	deja vu

**Author's Note:**

> [hand wavy] they are both reincarnated versions of themselves, and somehow met again

Angel hugs his knees to his chest. The bath water looks dirty under the dim fluorescent light, but that's just the lighting. Aki has scrubbed the bathtub clean earlier.

Raps on the door.  _ Thud thud.  _ Aki. Speak of the devil, except the devil is himself. "What."

Aki does not open the door. "You've been inside for an hour."

The water has gone cold too. Angel finds he doesn't really mind. "So?"

"Stop hogging the bathroom."

If he insists. Angel stands, shaking his wings dry. He pulls up the stopper. The water swirls as it goes down the drain, and it makes him think of Typhoon, that old devil. Where is it now? Angel has seen it on the news awhile back, but it has escaped before Public Safety could grab it. Which is funny, because Angel may not recall his past lives, but his instincts know for a fact that Typhoon has been so  _ weak  _ despite essentially being a force of nature.

He dries himself on a towel. Puts on his clothes. By the time he steps out of the bathroom, Aki is lying on the bed, flipping through a paperback that he's gotten at a gas station. He's left the television running.

Angel pries back the duvet. Why are hotel duvets always so heavy? He crawls under it, smooth white fabric sliding against his skin, and switches off the lamp on his side of the room.

"Goodnight," Aki says. He does not look up. 

In ten minutes, Aki will get up to do some work, check accounts and plan tomorrow's trip. In an hour, he will pack up, crawl into his bed on the other side of the room, before turning off the lights. Then, and only then, will Angel sleep.

But Aki doesn't have to know that. "'Nights," Angel says, and closes his eyes.

-

There is a Bible in the gloves compartment of the car. Angel has picked it up at a budget hotel run by an American couple, and has been reading it ever since while Aki drives.

Today, Angel sticks a receipt between the pages to mark his spot, and then dumps the book back in the compartment. "Do you think I should have more eyes?"

"I think you're fine as you are," Aki replies. 

The car bumbles along a bend in the road. Angel rests his head against the window, feeling the tremble of the engine against his skull. Snowfall dusts the world, weighing down the branches and darkening the roads with damp and ice. Slippery; Aki has promised to teach him how to drive once the weather turns warmer.

The car radio is playing something chirpy. Angel switches it off.

"We'll have to detour," Aki says. "There's a job: easy enough, and pays well." And that they have less cash than Aki is comfortable with is left unsaid. After almost four months on the road, that is a given.

Angel pulls his scarf over his nose. "Alright. Good luck."

"You're not coming?"

"I don't like to work," Angel tells him.

The car branches away into a small road on the left, and then hobbles up a dirt road until they reaches an empty parking lot attached to an onsen facility.

"If I'm not back in two hours, assume I'm dead," Aki informs, and slams the car door shut. He has left the key in ignition. How sweet of him, to strain his battery to keep Angel warm. 

Angel waits until he disappears into the facility, and then rummages through Aki's duffel bag to find the paperback that he was reading last night.

A romance? Who would have thought. Oh, wait - it is a depressing literary fiction. Still doesn't seem like something Aki will like.

Angel kicks his feet up on the dashboard. Seven minutes have passed. Reads the label of the bottled water that Aki has left in the cupholder. Nine minutes.

…He's really bored.

There is a Mickey Mouse figurine hanging off the rearview mirror. It came with the car. "I suppose I  _ am  _ curious to see which devil he has contacted with," Angel tells it. The Mickey Mouse stares back at him with its broad, creepy smile. Angel twists it to face away. It dangles like a corpse.

So then. Angel turns off the engine, and after pocketing the keys, zips up his coat as well. The wind whips up his hair and slaps them across his face; Angel winces as he pulls the strands from between his lips. 

When he enters the facility, there is no one at the counter, but there is a ticket machine. One adult, male, no need for a towel. The ticket is printed, and Angel tears it off. Head right for the baths: the corridors are lined with shoji doors, the interior all lit, yet devoid of noise or shadows. Lockers, another empty counter; Angel continues onwards.

Then the men's baths.

Angel ducks under the curtain, and almost bumps straight into Aki's chest.

"Move!" Aki snaps, grabbing his covered wrist before breaking into a run. There is a loud crash right behind him; when Angel glances back, he sees a devil that reminds him of a folklore monster, with steam fizzling out of its nostrils.

Aki rounds a corner. With a hard shove, he pushes Angel behind him and from thin air, the shadow of a bow manifests in his hand. He draws the string, no arrow. "Stalk," he mutters, and releases.

Sylph-like streaks dart through the air, like sunlight darting through the water surface, arrows of deliverance. And then, they begin to howl.

_ The Wolf Devil.  _ Angel hasn't expected that.

"Circle," Aki commands. He begins making his way back, following the wolves' call. Angel follows.

There it is, their target, surrounded by wolves that flicker like auroras, poisonously beautiful. "Harry."

Angel has seen wolves hunt before, on animal documentaries that air late at night. It is cruel, because it kills so slowly, and it kills the weak. The narrator has called it  _ culling.  _ Mercy is a concept that only exists among humans.

Then Aki says, "Tackle," and the wolves shed their light.

"That looks more like a devil," Angel remarks, watching the mass of teeth tear into its prey.

Aki does not answer. He seems distracted. No matter; the business is done, and Angel should make haste before Public Safety arrives and sees him.

"I'll wait in the car," he announces. He does not wait for a reply. He doesn't care for it, and he knows Aki doesn't, either. Not with Angel. Somehow, both of them have a habit of conserving speech with each other.

By the time Public Safety rolls over in their shiny black cars, Angel is dozing in his seat, hood pooled over his head and body slumped low enough that no one will notice the figure riding shotgun unless they come close to peer inside. He has plugged the key in, but doesn't twist it; Aki doesn't have a habit of leaving his car running. The window is wound down too to let in a sliver of fresh air, even though Angel doesn't believe he can suffer from carbon monoxide poisoning. More importantly, it leaves him cold. He wishes Aki can come back already, so they can leave.

Eventually, Aki returns with a manila envelope in hand. Hard cash: the way he preferred to be paid. Angel would bet good money that these notes are traced, but there hasn't been any repercussions yet, so they'll figure, somehow. 

"There's a diner an hour's drive away," Aki says as he puts on his seatbelt.

"Ok."

"We should take a break there."

"Ok."

"I heard they sell local-exclusive ice cream flavours."

"Good."

The Mickey Mouse is trembling on its string. Angel grabs it and rips it off.

Aki keeps his eyes on the road. "My friend got it as a souvenir when he visited Disneyland with his first girlfriend."

And he still kept it up till now? Wow, that's pathetic. Angel rolls down the window and tosses it out. Let it be someone else's problem.

-

Days seem to blur together, so Angel marks the passing of time by the diners they visited. 

In one, he says, "Devils are immortal, do you know that?" and wonders why anyone bother, if devils will continue to exist so long as humans continue to fear.

In another, he asks, "Do you truly believe heaven exists?" and each time, like every little detail he chooses to impart, Aki looks at him with his face carefully blank, and Angel holds his peace.

In this diner, Angel does not say a single word, and Aki does not too. Not one squeak to spare; quiet is solace in its own right. 

The food is shit, and the ice cream flavour is weird, but the music they play in the background is quite pleasant, so as far as diners go, it's not too bad.

Aki breaks the silence. "We should leave by the time that family two tables away leaves."

That family has just arrived, and their children are loud and rowdy and already squirting condiments into a cup of coke. Nasty. 

"Sure." Angel glances out of the window. He can make out their car among the rest of the other plain, generic cars clustered together. This is pleasant. Aki's ankle is pressed against his through the sturdy layers of their boots, because their table is too narrow. This is also to his satisfaction.

Waving over a waiter, Aki orders another cup of coffee. He has taken to wearing one side of the gloves on his non-dominant hand at almost all times. Angel doesn't let himself wonder what this means.

The coffee arrives. It smells nutty and fragrant in the way that only coffee can manage. Aki gestures at the biscuits on the saucer. "Want one?"

"Mm." Angel picks one up and dips its end in the coffee. Biscuits always taste better dipped, although he'll still eat them if they taste like paper. Angel isn't picky.

Aki finishes his biscuit too. He stirs his coffee, the metal spoon clinking, before he lowers it to take a sip. His Adam's apple is rather prominent, its movement dramatic as Aki swallows. 

(Aki is full of edges. His bones press out, as though trying to dig their ways out of his body. His jaw is strong, Angel supposes, and his collarbones stretch his skin thin from where they peek out under his collar. His hands: all long and angular, knuckles sharp, nails square. They are bigger than Angel's.)

With a jolt, Angel realises he's watching too closely. He turns away.

"The place we are heading next," Aki says, "has a few national parks. They are pretty. Something of a tourist attraction."

"Do you want to see them?"

"Do you?" Aki counters.

Angel considers this. The snow has mostly melted, and further south, he's heard that the earliest spring flowers have started to bloom. He's not optimistic. "I don't really care."

"Alright." Aki returns his attention to the coffee. 

The background music switches to something dated, and the singer whines about love and pining and all those overrated things. The family from two tables over have quieted down, because everyone is too busy munching on food to kick up a fuss. Outside, a scenery that does not change, untouched.

Angel rests his cheek on his palm. "Will there be waterfalls?"

There is a distinct pause as Aki registers the words. "There is one."

"I would like to see a waterfall."

"Alright," Aki replies, and there is a certain lightness to his voice that betrays the apathy across his features, "Yeah, alright."

The coffee is lifted. Aki hides his face behind the cup. In the background, the singer continues to croon, but her life is not his. Angel thinks they'll do just fine.

-

The waterfall is loud. Thunderous. It is a little disappointing, until Angel spots the ice that has frozen over further downstream, froth and splashes and all. Now  _ that's  _ interesting.

It's still  _ way  _ too cold though, and by the time they trudge back to the car, Angel's nose feels like it has frozen right off his face. His face is numb. He can't feel his fingers, even though he's put on gloves. They are leather. They are also too long in the fingers. Aki's, just four months ago. Makes Angel feel like a child.

(Or a girl pulling on her boyfriend's gloves over her own. Angel should stop watching all those drama reruns on the late-night channels.)

Midway, Aki stops him with a hand on his elbow. "You are shivering," he observes, and Angel realises belatedly that this is true. "Come closer. Tuck your hair in your hood."

Angel abides, and after some hesitation, leaves the hood up. Without apprehension, Aki unbuttons his coat and wraps an arm across Angel's shoulders. All hail a late spring for forcing them to cover up so well.

"Be careful of my wings," Angel reminds.

"Don't worry," Aki replies, "I don't want to die yet."

Idiot. Fraternising with a devil is already a death sentence. Hunting devils shortens your sentence even further. For all the cool-headed image he presents to the world, Aki is reckless. It makes Angel scared; it makes him want to run. Where to? He doesn't know. They are both headed to the same destination anyway.

When they reach the car, Aki holds the door open for him. How gentlemanly. Angel doesn't thank him, and Aki doesn't seem to be looking for one either, shutting the door absently before entering on the driver's side. 

The engine purrs into life. "Will you teach me how to drive?" Angel asks. "It'll be spring soon."

Aki's hand hovers over the handbrake. "Maybe."

"My wings are not just for show, you know. I could fly away anytime."

"I have never seen you fly."

"It's too cold to fly.”

Aki does not reply. He lowers the handbrake, and backs the car out of its space. 

If Angel is human, he thinks his heart will ache. But he’s not.

He thinks of Aki’s wolves. All lone wolves die, the narrator has said, because wolves are pack animals. But Angel has watched a bison trample on a wolf on TV, has watched a moose kick so hard that a wolf’s jaw breaks. Would it have survived if it has been alone, hunting smaller prey?

But Aki isn’t a wolf. Aki is Aki.

“If you ask,” Angel mutters, “I would make a contract with  _ you.” _

He speaks barely above the rumble of the engine, so Aki can pretend not to hear it, if he chooses to. But Aki huffs good-naturedly. “What power will I have?” he entertains.

“Any weapons your imagination can come up with.”

“I see.” His fingers  _ tap tap tap  _ on the steering wheel. Aki has not taken off his gloves. "And what's the price?"

It is the law of equivalent exchange, to give is to take, the greatest offerings sacrificed to feed the most bloodthirsty of weapons.

Yet the thing is this: Angel may have grown a little (just a little) fond.

"I would have all of the rest of your time," he proposes.

"My… time," Aki echoes.

_ Take it or leave it,  _ Angel thinks. This is all he's capable of giving. The wilderness lining the road opens up to the vast horizons of the ocean, and oh, the sun is setting, painting the skies with rosy streaks of pink.

The sea glimmers, unfathomable, and Angel quashes the irrational melancholy in his chest. Aki does not give him an answer, and Angel is not expecting one either; words are something to be rationed, lest they lose their sanctity.

The sun sets. Aki drives on. Angel wonders which diner they will be stopping by tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> if you read the prologue, NO YOU DID NOT. this is why people say to plan your writing before posting


End file.
